


New Frames

by Hansotsi (Karmula)



Category: Frozen (Disney Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Glasses, Glasses kink, Hans wears glasses and Anna thinks it's the bomb dot com, Sexual Tension, Teasing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-19
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2020-12-14 06:47:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,674
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21011504
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Karmula/pseuds/Hansotsi
Summary: More "Hans wears glasses and Anna thinks it's hot" for a friend, this time set in a modern AU.





	New Frames

**Author's Note:**

> For prince-hans-pants. Originally written in 2014, edited and reuploaded in 2019.

“Oooh, Hans, how about these!?” Anna asked excitedly, bouncing on the balls of her feet as she thrust yet another pair of reading glasses towards her husband.

Blinking in surprise, he removed his own frames and gingerly took the new ones from her hands, raising an eyebrow and pursing his lips as he watched them dangle from his fingertip. They were large, round, and made from a thick, lime coloured plastic. They looked practically radioactive, and whether they were or not, one thing was for certain; Hans definitely didn’t want them anywhere near his face.

“What?” Anna frowned, watching him eye them with disdain and folding her arms across her chest.

“Well… they’re a bit garish, don’t you think, dear?” he tried tactfully, hoping not to offend her. He began to backpedal quickly, though, when she flushed, the crease between her brows deepening, and he tripped over his own tongue more than once in his haste. “I mean, they’re quite lovely, yes, of course, but I was thinking maybe something a bit more _toned down_, perhaps, like my old pair–”

“Your old glasses are boring, Hans!” Anna exclaimed, snatching back the green frames and perching them on the bridge of her own nose, her eyes magnified to twice their size by the coke-bottle glass lenses. It would have been comical, were she not in such a foul mood. “That’s why we’re here in the first place!

“My glasses aren’t boring,” Hans defended, a little hurt, removing the frames in question and withdrawing a handkerchief from his breast pocket to polish them. “They’re just… professional.” He balanced them on the sharp tip of his nose, resting a long finger on the cool, thin wire and pushing them back up the bridge. “And you didn’t think they were _boring _last week when I–”

“Fine, whatever, they’re _professional _– who cares?” she interrupted angrily, an embarrassed, flaming blush colouring her cheeks, obviously eager to avoid that particular subject. “Why be professional when you could be groovy?”

He would have laughed at her use of the word groovy, if he weren’t so afraid of what might happen if he did. 

“Like _these_ glasses – they’re so pretty and un-boring and _colourful _– and who doesn’t like green?”

“Green is _your _favourite colour, Anna, not mine.”

“Fine,” she huffed, taking off the glasses – _Thank God, _Hans thought – and slipping them back onto their rack, heaving a dramatic sigh as she did so. Hans chuckled, and Anna grinned, glad to have made him laugh, and grabbed his hand, skipping over to the opposite side of the waiting room, husband in tow.

As tiring (and, quite frankly, scary) as Anna could be, Hans was secretly relieved to have her there. He _hated _going to the optometrist, with a fiery passion – it most likely had to do with the fact that he, for as long as he could remember, had wanted to be invincible. He had always had this paranoia about showing any signs of weakness, no matter how small, and he had to admit that the fact that he had to wear reading glasses had always played on that particular fear. From the time of his very first prescription he had felt ashamed of himself, and that shame had only grown as his eyesight had slowly deteriorated with time.

Whatever the reason, though, he hated the optometrist. He hated the smell of glass and plastic and cool, sharp metal that infused the stale air inside the place; he hated the hard, unforgiving plastic chairs that lined one entire wall of the foyer; he hated the posters plastered on every available inch of every wall, photo-shopped models with sculpted faces and proportionate chins and noses wearing frames _tailored _to make them look beautiful where he looked weak; and, most of all, he hated the tall, rotating racks that stood in rows in the middle of the room, displaying pairs upon pairs of glasses.

From the moment he had sifted through the mail this morning – _bills, bills, a postcard from Elsa, bills _– and discovered the crisp white envelope stamped with his name and the name of the establishment, he had been filled with dread.

Until Anna had offered to come with him.

He would have to remember to thank her later… He supposed it was good they were picking up new frames. After all the thanking he had done her recently, his old ones _were _looking a little worn.

“So, Mr. Fussy,” Anna began teasingly, snapping him out of his reverie, “If green _isn’t _your favourite colour, then what is?”

Thrown for a loop, Hans shrugged after a moment’s hesitation. “I don’t know. I guess I don’t have one.”

She gasped in mock – or was it? – shock. “Don’t have one? _Everyone _has a favourite colour!”

Hans shook his head. “You know, the more I think about it, the more I don’t think I have one.”

“What about crimson? Chartreuse? Yellow?”

“No, no aaand no. I already told you, I don’t have one!”

Now that he actually thought about it, that was a lie. While his favourite colour couldn’t be described with something as simple as the word ‘red’ or ‘pink’, it was definitely a warm colour. In fact, it was Anna – the way she would flush, her skin glowing rosy with embarrassment; the way her hair, fanned out across her pillow, would dance a million fiery shades of red and orange and gold in the morning light; the yellow-golden way she positively crackled with energy.

_ That  _ was his favourite colour.

But that was something he would never admit.

And that was definitely not something you would be able to find on a pair of glasses.

Anna threw her hands into the air exasperatedly, her braids bouncing with the movement, wisps of coppery hair flying loose. “That’s ridiculous! How am I supposed to help you pick some nice frames if you don’t even have a favourite colour?” She spun around, examining this nearest rack with a pout before turning back to face her husband.

“Wait – I have an idea!”

She raced over to the other side of the room again, leaving Hans slightly bewildered and a little curious. An idea?

Anna soon returned, hands tucked behind her back, a shy smile on her lips. Hans cocked an eyebrow, holding out his hand expectantly. She flushed, shifting her weight from foot to foot restlessly, making soft, muffled thuds against the carpet.

“Okay, so, I _know _you normally go for rectangular lenses, but – hear me out! – when you said you didn’t really have a favourite colour I had this idea, and there were some rectangular ones too but these just looked so _nice _and–”

Without speaking a word, Hans stepped forward, sliding one hand along her jawline to cup her chin, angling it upwards. His breath was hot against her lips as he slipped his other hand around her waist, snatching the frames from behind her back and smirking as he pulled away, leaving her breathless.

“Gotcha,” he grinned, removing his glasses and holding up the new pair, inspecting them closely. The temples were made of thin, navy wire that melted away as it reached the oval-shaped lenses, leaving them rimless – no colour. He could see where she’d gotten the idea.

Tucking his original pair into his pocket, Hans slipped the new frames onto his nose, pushing them up by the bridge and was pleased to found that they fit well, the nose pads only a mite too tight, and would hardly need adjusting. Even through the smudged, smeary filler lenses he could see just how red Anna was, how bright her cheeks were.

“If you don’t like them, that’s fine, I just thought they’d be – and, well, you look really _good _in them, actually–”

Hans reached out a reprimanding finger, pressing it gently yet firmly against Anna’s lips to silence her.

“I love them,” he told her truthfully, reaching up one hand to remove them so he could see her properly. Biting down on the temple tips to free up his hands, he cupped her face gently, stroking his thumb across her cheek. “Really, I do. I think, when we get home, I ought to thank you properly.”

“What…?”

“I think you know,” Hans purred, taking the glasses from his mouth and tracing Anna’s jawline with the temple tip, still moist from his saliva. Stroking the cool metal down further, he outlined the prominent curve of Anna’s collarbone before dipping lower, angling the frames to press one steamy lens against the top of her breast. “Do you agree?”

“I…” Anna stuttered, trailing off when Hans pressed the glass more insistently against her skin, her breathing hitching in her throat. She squeezed her thighs together, suppressing a moan at the heat unfurling between them, and inhaled sharply when she felt a drop of her own arousal trickle agonisingly slowly down her leg.

“Of course you do,” he smiled, removing the glasses from her breast and pressing them instead into her clammy hand, simultaneously fishing in one of his pockets for his wallet and a crumpled slip of thin, yellowed paper, which he thrusted into her hand also. He stepped back, smirking when he saw just how flustered his wife had become, and nodded.

“Some money, my wallet and, of course, the frames – I think that’s everything. Would you go to the desk and place the order for me dear? I’ll be waiting for you in the car.” He winked, and it was all Anna could do to keep from dropping the items he had just given her.

She nodded and he grinned, satisfied. As he made for the door, he brushed against her, whispering into her ear, “And I’ll be sure to thank you later.” Anna squeaked, dropping the items she had been so desperate to hold on to, and Hans chuckled.

There was a clang as the bell above the door rang, signalling Hans’ exit, and Anna was left alone in the waiting room, scrambling to recollect herself as images of Hans’s impending ‘thank you’ assaulted her mind.


End file.
